


wishes can wait

by homesteady



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Brief description of a panic attack, Developing Relationship, M/M, gift exchange via proxy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 03:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17154791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homesteady/pseuds/homesteady
Summary: Christmas was weird for Gyro.It wasn’t that it was such an awful time of year, or even that he hated the spirit or decorations or music. It was more that he didn’t feel like he fit into the world the way it existed in December.





	wishes can wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BarracudaHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarracudaHeart/gifts).



> for my friend hillo, i hope you like some holiday gyros!!! everything you write and draw makes me so excited, so i hope that i can return the favor a little bit. merry christmas <3

          Christmas was weird for Gyro.

          It wasn’t that it was such an awful time of year, or even that he hated the spirit or decorations or music. It was more that he didn’t feel like he fit into the world the way it existed in December.

          If it was a religious holiday, Gyro couldn’t appreciate it because he had abandoned religion right around the time he was able to form his own opinions. If it was a family-centric holiday, then he couldn’t relate to the sentiment because he hadn’t been part of a family in over a decade.

          All in all, it was a pretty neutral time for Gyro. He liked the lights strung up through the city, the ribbons and snowflakes adorning the streetlights, even the ostentatious wreaths on all the major buildings. Some of the music was annoying, but it was easy enough for him to avoid. The pros and the cons sort of balanced themselves out.

          He didn’t see the point in putting up his own decorations at his apartment, but he allowed it in the lab so long as it didn’t interfere with his work or pose too much of a fire hazard. Manny had acquired some nice garlands from somewhere, and Fenton had gotten a little overexcited when he realized he could decorate his area.

          Fenton had accumulated a nice collection of little baubles and crafty decorations over the course of a few weeks. His desk soon featured a miniature string of lights along the edges, and a sparkly fold out menorah that had little paper flames on toothpicks that he added each day throughout Hanukkah. He explained without being asked that his mother was Catholic, but his other mom, M’ma’s ex-wife, had been Jewish. He liked the interfaith traditions they’d had, but also it just made him happy to have more days to celebrate with his family.

          That sounded nice to Gyro. A little exhausting maybe, and definitely not for him, but it was a sweet thought. Fenton was full of them, he’d learned.

          “What are your plans for the holidays, Gyro?” he asked one afternoon, about a week before Christmas.

          “My plans?” Gyro echoed. His attention was mostly occupied by some circuitry he was tinkering with.

          “Yeah, are you visiting family, or going on vacation or something? Any parties?”

          At this, Gyro looked up from his desk.

          “Do I seem like someone who goes to parties, Cabrera?” Gyro asked, not unkindly.

          “Not really, but I don’t know anything about your personal life, so you can’t really blame me for bad guesses,” Fenton said pointedly. Gyro shrugged.

          “I’m staying at home, like I do every year.”

          “You don’t have any traditions?”

          “I usually do laundry,” Gyro said thoughtfully. “The machines in my building are empty on Christmas.”

          “Laundry is your Christmas tradition?” Clearly this was puzzling to his coworker.

          “I suppose I’m not really the holiday type,” Gyro said.

          “Okay,” Fenton said. He paused.

           “You know, I’m sure M’ma wouldn’t mind if- that is, if you wanted- we have plenty of room…“

          “That’s okay,” Gyro said, cutting him off quickly with an open hand splayed out in the air between them. “I’m not cut out for a family Christmas. That really is generous of you and your mother, but I do alright on my own.”

          Fenton smiled, perhaps a little disappointed, but not at all offended by the rejection of his attempted offer.

          “Well, our door is open if you change your mind. You don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to be.”

          “I won’t be so alone,” Gyro said, looking at Lil Bulb, who was sitting on Fenton’s desk. He was very focused on stringing together popcorn and cranberries, unaware that he momentarily had an audience.

          “But maybe I’ll stop by after the holiday,” Gyro suggested, struggling to maintain a casual tone. “That is, if you think you’ll have leftovers to spare.”

          Fenton’s face lit up instantly, and he started talking a mile a minute about all the holiday food he and his family were going to make and of _course_ there would be leftovers to share, and Gyro very quickly lost track of what all he was talking about. The feeling was contagious though, and Gyro found himself in such a good mood that he didn’t have any desire to tell him to stop.

          Privately, Gyro did think that the prospect of having a home-cooked meal was a hard one to pass up. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten something that wasn’t microwaved or from a vending machine. His body was probably 80% coffee and instant noodles and old granola bars. It was possible, he considered, that an outing to the Cabrera household might have a positive effect on his physical health. He let his pondering of how spending time with Fenton may or may not affect his well-being end there.

* * *

          Fenton gave Gyro the night off a week before Christmas. Not that he really had the authority to do so, but he felt that it was important for Gyro not to spend the entire holiday season cooped up in the lab, or even in his apartment for that matter.

          “Do some Christmas shopping, see a show, judge an ice sculpture competition! Just get out of here and try to enjoy yourself for once. Manny and I can take care of work for _one_ night,” he had said, practically pushing Gyro out of the lab.

          As a rule, Gyro didn’t like taking orders. But really, there wasn’t much to do at the very end of the year in the lab besides paperwork anyway, and if Fenton was offering, he wasn’t really going to turn down the opportunity to do something besides analyze numbers and the chart the allocation of materials. Either way, Fenton seemed insistent, so if he stuck around, nobody would be happy _or_ getting any work done.

          It was about as close to a win-win scenario as Gyro was going to get.

          And so, Gyro wandered the streets of Duckburg aimlessly, forcing himself to take an honest-to-God break for once. He admired lights in apartment windows and tried not to think about the last time he’d helped decorate a tree. Passing brightly colored storefronts, he was grateful that he didn’t have a big list of people to buy gifts for. He’d never been very good at it as a kid, having neither the money nor the desire to give meaningful gifts to anyone in his life.

          Gyro tilted his head and focused past the window to the toy display inside. Trains looped and plowed along beside a scene of dolls and teddys of all sorts, done up in red ribbons and bows and hats. He considered the toys, finding them rather charming. He pushed open the door and stepped into the shop, overwhelmed by the color and lights, but determined, for once, to leave with a gift for someone he liked.

* * *

          The next day when Fenton saw Lil Bulb in his own tiny Santa hat and holiday sweater, he positively cooed over the invention. Gyro rolled his eyes as the little robot posed to show off his gifts, but he couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face.

          “Alright, alright, that’s enough. There’s still work to do, Cabrera.”

          “One more picture,” Fenton said, showing no signs of stopping.

          Gyro shook his head and looked back down at his clipboard full of supply order forms to fill out for the coming year.

          Doing inventory sucked.

          While everyone did their best to keep the lab clean and organized, there was a lot of heat of the moment science-ing that caused many an item to be misplaced. End of the year housekeeping was always rough, but for once, Gyro felt confident in other people to help him do the work. Obviously, Gyro was completely self-sufficient and more competent than most, but it he had to admit it was nice to not be as stressed all the time as he had been before when he did it all by himself.

          It gave him time to breathe. To think thoughts _not_ about the urgency of a particular task. It gave him time to realize that Fenton had fallen suspiciously quiet.

          Gyro peered at him from the filing cabinet he was sorting through to see him leaning down to get very close to Lil Bulb. If Gyro didn’t know better, he might’ve used the word “conspiring” to describe the interaction happening across the room.

* * *

          Two days before Christmas, Gyro arrived at the Money Bin in the morning to find a small box on top of his desk, neatly wrapped in brightly colored paper with stars all over. Atop the box lay a small, folded card with Gyro’s name printed in big letters.

          He looked from his desk to Fenton’s desk, which was empty, to the coffee pot on the other side of the room where Fenton was very intently pouring and stirring various amounts of coffee, sugar, and cream into a disposable cup. Gyro let his bag fall heavily on his chair just to see if Fenton would jump. He did, a little, but then focused even harder on the coffee in his hand.

          “Fenton, I know you put this here,” Gyro said loudly.

          Fenton looked up, startled at both the call-out and the rare use of his first name.

          “What, me? I don’t- I don’t know what you mean.”

          “This is your handwriting. Do you know how I know that? Because Manny can’t hold a pen.”

          “It’s from Lil Bulb,” Fenton said. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

          Gyro looked for the little bot and heard his faint but distinctive buzzing from over on the coffee table where Fenton was standing. His bulb was shining brightly, a pinkish tinge to his normally soft yellow glow. Fenton scooped him up in one hand and brought him closer to Gyro’s desk.

          Setting the little card aside, Gyro picked up the box and carefully tore open the wrapping paper, revealing a plain cube-shaped box. From that, he pulled out a large green-speckled enamel mug that read “Duckburg’s Best Scientist and Bot Dad”.

          “Now you don’t have to drink coffee straight from the pot,” Fenton said half-sheepishly.

          Gyro surprised himself by letting out a laugh.

          “It’s beautiful,” he said admiringly. The gesture sparked a warmth in him that was largely unfamiliar. It felt kind of similar to stress—a feeling he was much more acclimated to experiencing—but it wasn’t that. Rather than a pit in his gut it was more like a seed in his chest, blooming like a flower with petals littering his lungs and chest. The feeling spread to his head and his fingertips, and Gyro found himself confused but not disturbed by it.

          Lil Bulb buzzed happily and lifted his arms up at Gyro, who picked him up and brought him close for as much of a hug as his tiny arms could give.

          “And you did this all on your own, hm?” Gyro asked, raising his eyebrows at the bot.

          Lil Bulb pointed at Fenton, who suddenly found the floor very interesting.

          “I helped. A little,” Fenton admitted, though they both knew full well that Lil Bulb didn’t have any money, or the ability to find and custom order a mug on the internet.

          “Thank you both,” Gyro said. He looked at Lil Bulb first, then at Fenton, and Fenton thought that he’d never seen Gyro look the way he did in that moment. Not vulnerable, not really, but… sincere. Fenton wondered to himself how long it had been since Gyro received a gift. He seemed unsure what to do, but in the end decided to pour himself a generous amount of coffee into his new mug, and start work for the day.

          For the next few hours, Gyro hummed little tunes as he worked, and Fenton wasn’t even sure that he noticed he was doing it.

* * *

          Christmas came and went, and Gyro was hungry.

          Loathe as he was to admit something close to a fault, he was at least ready to acknowledge that continuing his usual diet of prepackaged crap was pretty sad during the holidays, especially when he didn’t have work to distract him or justify the habit. Fenton had left the invitation open, so Gyro’s stomach did the thinking for him, and the day after Christmas, he knocked on the door of the Cabrera house.

          The woman who opened it a few moments later surprised him out of his hungry fog so sharply that for a split second he thought he had the wrong house. He had only met M’ma once or twice, but he was pretty sure the large woman wearing a recently stained apron that was standing in front of him was not her.

          “ _Fenton!_ ” the woman called into the house. Then, to Gyro, “Come in, come in, don’t bring the cold with you.”

          Fenton poked his head into the living room and lit up when he saw who their new guest was.

          “Gyro! You made it!” he said, running up to the chicken.

          Gyro had kind of a pained expression on his face that Fenton slowly realized was due to his aunt clearly scrutinizing him.

          “Oh, uh, Gyro, this is my Aunt Lucia! Aunt Lucia, this is Gyro. He’s a… he’s a friend from work!”

          Lucia paused her eyeing of the young man to greet him slightly more warmly.

          “Make sure you get your friend a plate of food, he’s so skinny,” she said as she returned to the spiced warmth emanating from the kitchen.

          Gyro took in the room then, relieved to be free of Lucia’s silent judgement. The living room still had a couple of young ducks sitting on the floor around a television watching cartoons, but they didn’t seem to care about whoever this stranger was, so they ignored him for moment.

          “I probably should’ve warned you that I still have some family around the house, but don’t worry they’re harmless,” Fenton explained. “Let’s get some food, first, then I’ll get you out of the spotlight.”

          Fenton steered Gyro toward a dining room table that was full of roast pans and pots and baskets of breads and snacky somethings. Gyro allowed Fenton to push a paper plate in each of his hands as he trailed him around the table, Fenton explaining what all the food was and who made it. All the while, he quickly introduced Gyro to any curious family member who came around wondering, as he piled food on the plates higher than either of them would be able to eat. Finally, Fenton pointed Gyro in the direction of his room, while he stopped to grab napkins and plastic cutlery and water bottles.

          Gyro hadn’t been in someone’s bedroom other than his own in… he didn’t even know how long. Looking around, he saw a lot of Fenton’s personality reflected in the posters and comic books displayed on the walls and shelves. A simple desk by the window was cluttered with blueprints in various stages of completeness. Underneath some of the blueprints, a few bits of newspaper stuck out, and Gyro could just barely see that they were all articles about Gizmoduck.

          Fenton came into the room, apologizing for the mess that had prevented Gyro from putting the food down. Kicking aside boxes and clothes as he went, Fenton pulled a cardboard box from somewhere and dragged it to the middle of the room.

          “I hope you don’t mind sitting on the floor, it’s been kinda crowded here, and I didn’t know if you would even come, so I didn’t have time to clean up at all, oh, here!” Fenton held out a plastic fork and water bottle to his guest, and Gyro put the plates down on the box between them before accepting them.

          “I should’ve texted you,” Gyro said, about a half hour too late.

          “About what?” Fenton asked around a mouthful of food.

          “That I was coming,” Gyro explained. “I wasn’t thinking.”

          “I’m the one who invited you! Anyway, you’re here now, and that gets me out of having to explain my job for the thirtieth time. Some of my family aren’t so crazy about Scrooge McDuck.”

          “You know, I can understand that.”

          Gyro put a forkful of food in his mouth and made an embarrassing sound. It was so good that he feared he might never be able to subsist on a ramen diet again.

          The look on Fenton’s face could only be described as “dopey” and laughed when Gyro tried to excuse himself.

          “Are you kidding? It’s a compliment. Not that I really helped with much of the cooking, I pretty much just boil water. My family is amazing with food, though!” Fenton said proudly.

          As they ate and chattered, Gyro felt more comfortable than he ever thought he’d be in someone else’s house, especially so close to Christmas. He felt warm in more ways than one, sitting and eating on Fenton’s bedroom floor, and the comfort startled him. By the time he realized it, he felt sure he’d made a mistake.

          What was he doing in this house? Letting his guard down like a fool, and allowing himself to get attached to the first person he could call a friend in years. It was as if he hadn’t learned his lesson the first time. There was only one way it could end: someone would get hurt.

          Whether that was himself or Fenton, it didn’t matter. He had to put a stop to it.

          Gyro thanked Fenton for the meal and left behind only a handful of fragmented excuses as he tugged on his coat and bolted from the house.

* * *

          He was an idiot.

          It was the only thought in Gyro’s head the entire long walk to his apartment. The freezing temperature didn’t register, only that he needed to keep moving. If he stopped to wait for a bus, he might let a tear or a sniffle out, and someone would be around to see.

          That was not a risk he was prepared to take in his current state.

          By the time he entered his apartment, his head had cleared a bit, and he felt a renewed wave of nausea at the realization that leaving without a word was almost dumber than the panic attack he’d been having in the first place.

          After he collapsed on his bed, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw that he had text messages from Fenton.

          The first read, _Are you alright?_

          Gyro could almost laugh at how obviously the answer was in the negative. The second message read, _At least let me know when you make it home._

          For some reason, that did make Gyro cry, and he sobbed in an ugly way for just a minute or two before he regained some composure.

_I’m sorry,_ he tapped into the chat box. _Holidays are hard_.

          Gyro stared at the screen for a few minutes, erasing it completely and then typing it out again and again. Finally, he sent the revised version.

_I’m home. I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow._

          He barely saw Fenton’s heart emoji response before falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

          Gyro thought about the Cabrera household, how it had been warm and lively and full. By comparison, his apartment was rather cold and dull. The day after his visit, when he’d gone to the lab to get a bit more paperwork done, he’d returned with the popcorn garland that Lil Bulb had made with Fenton’s help. He strung it up on the wall above his ugly, outdated television. The garland wasn’t very long, but it added a bit of color and cheer that hadn’t existed in the room previously.

          It was curious how Fenton’s presence seemed to be intertwined with this holiday season. When he saw decorations now, he thought of how Fenton had decorated his desk. It was Fenton who’d given him his first (personal, not work-related) gift in years. Even though he’d spent Christmas at his own home with Lil Bulb, Fenton had welcomed him into his family’s house. And he’d left, like a dumbass.

          Still, he allowed Gyro to apologize on the phone the next day, even if Gyro did a terrible job since he had to avoid explaining that the underlying reason was a fear of commitment and emotional intimacy. Lucky for him, Fenton’s heart was as big as it was forgiving.

          Gyro breathed in deep, unlocking his phone. He exhaled heavily and slowly as he opened his contacts and started a text. A groan escaped him as he threw his head back and put his arm over his eyes. Something was making this unreasonably difficult, and the sudden fire in his chest wasn’t helping. Lil Bulb looked at him from the other end of the couch, and Gyro knew he was being judged.

          “Can I help you?” he asked dryly.

          Lil Bulb shrugged and went back to cycling through all of the dozen or so stations that got both sound and picture on Gyro’s TV.

          Gyro tapped out a message. _Do you have New Year’s Eve plans?_

          He hit send, after staring at it for a full minute, and against his better judgement. Immediately, he felt a deep sense of dread and regret. Could he not have said something more interesting? Shouldn’t he have started with a greeting, at least? It was already 9pm, only a few hours left until New Year’s Day, Fenton was _sure_ to have plans already. He tossed the phone onto the rug in front of him, feeling sick just by holding it.

          A few seconds later, it buzzed. Gyro leapt to the floor to pick it up, ignoring Lil Bulb’s obvious curiosity.

_Even more family, if you can believe it._

          Gyro’s heart sank. Of course, it was a family affair. They wouldn’t want him around for an actual holiday.

          He leaned back against the couch, staring at the TV and suddenly having a lot of contempt for the people hanging out in the cold waiting for another year to start. A commentator in a parka droned on about the performers coming up in the next couple hours to welcome the new year with a party.

          A small tap on his shoulder announced Lil Bulb’s presence as he stepped from the couch to perch on his creator. A tiny hand touched his face gently. Then, in his hand, Gyro’s phone buzzed again, and a new text appeared on the screen. Gyro and Lil Bulb both leaned forward to read it.

_I love them, but it can be overwhelming._ Gyro calmed down a little. He could relate to that, and either way, Fenton was still talking to him.

_Can I come over?_

          Gyro physically felt his self-defeating mood shift completely, and rapidly texted his reply and address as Lil Bulb cheered silently beside him.

          Shortly after ten, Gyro let Fenton into his apartment and was surprised that he had a couple of bags with him. Fenton set them on the floor as he took off his shoes and coat, glad to be out of the cold night air.

          “Have you eaten yet? I brought some leftovers and stuff from today, too, honestly our fridge is getting out of control.”

          Gyro poked through the bags, impressed with the amount of food, and went into the kitchenette to grab some forks. He didn’t mention that he hadn’t eaten anything of substance yet that day. He didn’t mention his abrupt social failures of the past week. He tried not to mention anything, really, for fear of messing up again.

          None of that seemed to matter to Fenton. If this, right now, his existence in Gyro’s apartment with a random assortment of a feast, wasn’t proof enough that he genuinely liked Gyro’s company, then nothing would ever convince him. Gyro wasn’t about to take any chances.

          Fenton got settled in on the floor in front of the couch, since Gyro had no coffee table, and picked up the remote to change the station to a better New Year’s Eve program. Gyro left him to discover for himself that only one got any picture on the screen at all, and he stepped into his bedroom. He paused at his nightstand, trying again not to overthink too much, and grabbed the present he had made sure was perfectly wrapped.

          Quickly, Gyro stepped back into the only other room in his apartment and settled next to Fenton on the floor before handing him the box.

          “Is this for me?” Fenton asked.

          “Of course, it’s for you,” Gyro said impatiently. “It’s from Lil Bulb.”

          “Is it now,” he replied coolly. He turned to look at Lil Bulb behind them on the couch, who gave a thumbs up. When Fenton turned back around to unwrap it, Lil Bulb tilted his head at Gyro, who ignored him.

          “Oh!” Fenton exclaimed, then he burst into laughter.

          The enamel mug in his hand, speckled with purple, read in bold letters, “Duckburg’s Best Duck Scientist and Bot Babysitter”.

          “Okay, maybe I can believe that was his idea,” Fenton said, jerking his hand to gesture at the invention.

          Gyro felt a hand touch his arm, and he felt the blood rushing to his head before he realized Fenton was thanking him, and he’d barely heard it. He seriously needed to get a grip.

          Luckily, he couldn’t stick his foot in his mouth if he was busy eating, so the evening passed easily as they ate and drank Pep! out of their respective mugs and sat on the couch and tried to guess at what was happening on the TV when the picture got all fuzzy.

          At 11pm, Lil Bulb faked a yawning gesture, and went off somewhere to “sleep”.

          At 11:43pm, Fenton really did fall asleep. It had been quiet for a little while, and the hosts on TV had gone soft around the edges. They were asking what people’s hopes were for the coming year, and the excited voices sounded far away as they talked about love and work and family.

          Gyro heard a woman say, “I’m either hoping for a ring, or a trip to Tahiti!” and Fenton’s head slumped a little to the side, sliding further down the couch and closer to Gyro’s arm. A few snores later, he landed there, and Gyro was instantly in agony.

          Physical contact was hard enough to navigate when both parties were awake. Gyro didn’t want to move and wake him, but he was starting to feel his face heat up and his hands sweat. He was sure his affection for Fenton could not have arrived at a worse time.

          Not that he hadn’t recognized the warning signs. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed for a while now how he felt himself yearning to be in Fenton’s space, or craving his attention when he should’ve been focused on other things.

          But right now, in his apartment, on his shitty couch, Fenton’s messy hair looked so soft, and his eyelashes seemed darker, or was that the shadows from the dying TV? To Gyro’s heart, it didn’t matter, because Fenton looked so beautiful, and he was about to start the year with his friend asleep at his side.

          But that wouldn’t be fair to Fenton either. He should at least have a say in the matter, right?

          So at 11:59pm, Gyro carefully nudged him awake.

          “I didn’t want you to miss the ball drop,” Gyro said quietly. His legs were stiff from trying so hard not to move.

          “Oh?” Fenton yawned. He leaned his head against Gyro, intentionally this time. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t miss it.”

          The countdown to midnight started, and Gyro looked at Fenton, who looked up at him at the exact moment it ended.

          “Did you make a wish?” Fenton asked.

          “No. Is that a thing?”

          Fenton shrugged sleepily against him.

          “What’d you wish for, then?”

          “That would be telling, Dr. Gearloose,” Fenton replied.

          Gyro hummed quietly, feeling suddenly rather optimistic about a whole new year. He stretched out so that he was laying down on his half of the couch, trying not to disturb Fenton too much.

          “It’s late,” Fenton mused.

          “It is,” Gyro said, laughing a little.

          “Can I stay here tonight?”

          “Sure,” Gyro said, and he was a little proud of his casual tone.

          “Can I use you as a pillow?” Fenton asked, and Gyro’s heartbeat ran away wildly without looking back to see if he was still there.

          “Sure,” Gyro said, less casual this time.

          Fenton moved so that his head was just under Gyro’s chest and he wrapped an arm around his middle. He fell asleep quickly, snoring just a little, and Gyro stayed awake for only a little longer than him.

          To himself, he wondered if it was not too late to make a wish after midnight had already passed. He supposed it didn’t matter, because wish or no, he was going to wake up tomorrow morning with Fenton.


End file.
